


family

by call_me_steve



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Child Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gen, Good Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Harm to Children, Hurt Toby Smith | Tubbo, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt Wilbur Soot, Kid Floris | Fundy, Kid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Kid TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Wilbur Soot, The Final Control Room, They/Them Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Traitor Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Violence, Wilbur Soot Angst, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot is Floris | Fundy's Parent, bc it's the dsmp, but like they come back, fundy is twelve, gonna tag that bc this is sorta dark, just it goes a little differently, they also consider tubbo their sibling, tommy and tubbo are ten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29518932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_steve/pseuds/call_me_steve
Summary: As soon as Eret disappears into the earth with Tubbo, Wilbur gestures Fundy forward. Then, Wilbur sets Tommy down and watches him follow his nephew. (Wilbur has always found it funny: Tommy has just turned ten and his nephew is older than him.) He sets to work, covering up their tracks. He doesn’t want anyone following them down here, especially if it’s supposed to be a safe-hold for them for the time being.His heart pounds, both from exertion and panic. For a moment, he thinks of home: the “drug van” and the L’Manburg walls, rising up high above their heads.That home is gone, now- but only for the time being.But, it doesn’t matter. They’ll get it back. Plus, he’d realized long ago that his family would always be his home. His family consisted of two ten year olds, Tommy and Tubbo, his almost-thirteen year old son, Fundy, and now Eret.Because- that’s the truth of it. If Wilbur hadn’t considered Eret his family, he never would have entrusted the lives of his boys to them.-Or, the Final Control Room happens. Tommy and Tubbo are ten years old.
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 15
Kudos: 173





	family

**Author's Note:**

> SO TURNS OUT FUNDY SAID TOMMY WAS FUCKING/NINE/ DURING THE L'MANBURG WAR Y'ALL WHAT THE FUCK

Wilbur’s breath comes in short and choppy as he pulls Tommy up into his arms so that his little brother is resting on his hip. Atop Tommy’s head sits Wilbur’s tricorn hat, slipping down his forehead because it’s a little too big. Beside them is Fundy, missing his own hat during the previous panic, and before them, Eret carries Tubbo on their back. 

Wilbur urges himself to run faster as Tommy peers over his shoulder, yelling the same exact thing. “They’re _gaining_ on us!” he cries, as Wilbur picks up the pace. 

Eret hits a hole in the ground and slips down into it, beckoning for Wilbur to join them. “Down here!”

As soon as Eret disappears into the earth with Tubbo, Wilbur gestures Fundy forward. Then, Wilbur sets Tommy down and watches him follow his nephew. (Wilbur has always found it funny: Tommy has just turned ten and his nephew is _older_ than him.) He sets to work, covering up their tracks and covering up the opening in the ground; he doesn’t want anyone following them down here, especially if it’s supposed to be a safehold for them for the time being. 

His heart pounds, both from exertion and panic. For a moment, he thinks of home: the “drug van” and the L’Manburg walls, rising up high above their heads. That had been the place he’d created for Tommy and Tubbo, so they’d have a stable place to grow up. That was the place he’d made for Fundy, so he could feel safe and secure. 

That home is gone, now- but only for the time being. 

But, it doesn’t matter. They’ll get it back. Plus, ever since Wilbur was young- living in the empty, cold halls of the Arctic Kingdom, he’d realized that his family would always be his home. Not buildings and materials- just people who he knew he could love and trust. His family consisted of two ten year olds, Tommy and Tubbo, his almost-thirteen year old son, Fundy, and now Eret. 

Because- that’s the truth of it. If Wilbur hadn’t considered Eret his family, he never would have entrusted the lives of his boys to them. 

When Wilbur feels content, he climbs down into the room alongside everyone else. He comes face to face with walls lined with obsidian and neat, labelled chests. There’s a button resting in the center of the room, but Wilbur doesn’t focus on it. Instead, he kneels down before Tommy and Tubbo. He scans them over, holding his boys hands in his own. 

“Are you alright?” he asks carefully, even as their shoulders shake. 

He reaches up a hand to cradle Tommy’s cheek as his little brother nods, paired with an eye roll. His brows furrow, nose scrunching up, and Wilbur knows that his little brother is rightfully pissed off at their attackers. Tommy has always been full of righteous anger, _especially_ when it comes to the war efforts. 

Wilbur pulls back his hand and places it, now, atop Tubbo’s head. “You?” 

“I’m fine,” Tubbo replies. His voice shakes, though, and he shakes out his hands, shifting his weight to his other foot. Wilbur ruffles his hair in an attempt to comfort him, and then steadies his hands on his knees as he stands. 

Upon knowing that the boys are as fine as they can be, Wilbur settles a hand on Fundy’s shoulders. While he’s hardly any older than the two boys- only turning thirteen for real in a few months- he’s being so calm that Wilbur feels pride bloom in his chest. When this is all over, Wilbur promises, he’ll check on Fundy for real and allow him to vent whatever it is he needs to.

"You're doing a good job," Wilbur tells him for right now, lowering his voice. "I'm proud of you, my little champion." 

Fundy looks up at Wilbur, aiming a shaky smile at him. He nods his head and then reaches for his father’s hand; Wilbur gives it a squeeze and turns to check on the last member of their ragtag group, Eret.

He finds their hand, hovering over that button. A dangerous glint shifts through their eyes and Wilbur breathes in hard through his nose. 

He is not stupid. There is a reason why he has survived for so long and that is because he knows trouble when he sees it. Even if Eret has never been anything other than a trusted colleague- even if Wilbur has no solid evidence that Eret would ever do anything to hurt his boys- Wilbur was raised a paranoid man. Ever since he was little, he hasn’t trusted anyone. Not really. 

(But- he _had_ trusted Eret. He _had.)_

(He doesn’t anymore.)

His eyes meet Eret’s overtop the button as his friend- family, sibling, peer, comrade, confident- looks up for nothing more than a few seconds. Their eyes swirl, dangerous and guilty and- above all else- filled with regret and a strong sense of _certainty_ that tells Wilbur Eret is going to go through with this. They are not going to pull back. 

_They are not going to pull back._

So, as soon as Eret’s hand slips down on the button after a minor, minor pause, Wilbur shoves Fundy behind him towards Tubbo and Tommy as if he can protect them. 

(He does not see what Eret mouths to him, as everything goes dark. It shudders like a fallen curtain and maybe if he _had-_

Maybe if he _had-_

But, Wilbur had not seen Eret’s apology.) 

Their small, small world descends into shouting and screaming and chaos. Wilbur presses back so his boys are close behind him and yanks out his sword from its sheath, settled on his hip. His chest heaves as Tommy grabs at the tail of his coat as though they’re in a crowd. Without a doubt, Tubbo is grabbing onto Tommy’s hand in a sharp death grip. 

(Wilbur is hit with the horrible idea that this is going to be the last time Tommy does this- he has _always_ held onto Wilbur’s coat when things get too overwhelming and it is one of the things that Wilbur loves about him. But- at least he doesn’t have much time to spend thinking about it.) 

Men slip into the room from behind the walls, surging forward and spelling their doom. 

Wilbur swings his sword in an arc, trying to drown out the horrible, horrible screams of his boys as everything becomes too much. They erupt from the space behind him and Wilbur tries to push himself further, attacking, attacking, _attacking-_

_(Protect my boys, protect my boys, protect my boys-)_

Wilbur’s strong suit has never been fighting. _Never._ His strong suit is words, littered over pages upon pages.

Perhaps he’s the first one to fall. Perhaps he isn’t. 

All he knows is that he doesn’t end up taking any of their attackers down with him as he slams into the ground, grasping at his waist. Red stains his hands and his shirt and his coat. It splatters over the ground at the offending blade, even as his sword clatters to the ground. Something dribbles from his chin, hot and potent like poison, and he knows that there is no coming back from this. 

But, he _needs more time._

His body sags to the ground and he watches as little Tommy picks up Wilbur’s sword, his own blue coat looking a little too big on his thin shoulders. His brother stands before Wilbur like Wilbur should be doing for him, a last defence against the world. He grips the blade with both of his hands, body shaking with rage and fear and _pure, pure terror._

Wilbur notices that Fundy doesn’t get up from his spot on the ground. 

Wilbur notices that Tubbo crawls to his feet, leaving red handprints on the wall.

 _Get up,_ Wilbur tells himself. 

Tommy’s voice slips out, thick with tears, “Get away from my brother.” 

No. _No._ Wilbur will not allow a _ten year old_ to stand before him, protecting him from their attackers. He presses one hand against his wound, as tightly as he dares, and then shoves his other one against the floor in order to push himself to his feet. Even though he can’t do much more than shift so he’s sitting up before _white hot pain_ tears through him, he keeps gritting his teeth, telling himself to _keep going._

He recognizes their attackers, of course- he’d have to be stupid not to. Sapnap, Dream, Punz and George loom over him and his little brothers, smirks resting on their lips. 

In the end, Sapnap’s the one who steps forward, bringing up his blade. 

Instead of bringing it _down,_ he thrusts it _forward-_

-and Wilbur watches as the blade forces its way through his little brother’s chest. Tommy curls around the blade, little fingers wrapping around the sharp edges of it as if it’ll save his life. His mouth his opened into a perfect little ‘o’ and Wilbur’s blade falls down to the ground once more. 

Is it worse, that Tommy doesn't scream? 

Is it worse, that for once in Tommy's life, he doesn't make a single noise?

Wilbur tries to stand, a choppy cry slipping from his lips. He knows that Tommy will respawn- they all will- but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, watching as Tommy’s eyes go dull. He can’t do anything to help Tommy, he realizes, as his gaze goes distant and his eyes go dull; his little brother is _gone,_ sliding off of Sapnap’s blade like butter. 

Tubbo and him- they’re the only ones left. 

Wilbut will be _damned_ if he lets anything happen to his last brother.

Shakily, Wilbur climbs to his feet, leaning heavily on the obsidian wall behind him. He breathes heavily, chest rising and falling a little too sharply. He levels Dream with a watery glare, despite how pale and tired he is. 

He is dying; Fundy is gone; Tommy is too. 

Tubbo needs to get out here alive, because Wilbur is not going to. 

Even as his world shakes and quakes, Wilbur concentrates on Tubbo’s overwhelming sobs, full of terror. _Get to your feet,_ he tells himsef. _Get to your feet, Wilbur._

He can hear Dream’s smirk beneath his mask. “Don’t worry,” he says. “They’ll respawn.” 

Then, quick as a flash, Punz watches as Punz shoots forward. He imagines the blade cleaving straight down the center of Tubbo’s skull, exposing brain and bone; before anything can happen to him, he moves forward faster than he thought he could have, grabbing Punz’s blade in his bare hands. 

Blood drips down his forearms. He doesn’t even register the sting. 

“Don’t touch him,” Wilbur wheezes out. “He’s _only a ten year old.”_

And Wilbur is only a single man.

While he can hold onto Punz’s sword and keep him back, pretending like this is enough to save Tubbo’s life, he cannot hold _everyone else_ back. As such, George steps forward, steps laced with uncertainty. Dream urges him on, a sharp cackle bursting from his chest.

Just like that, what little Wilbur has left drains away as Tubbo hits the ground, fingers twitching as the smile carved into his throat drips red.

Wilbur slides to the ground and begins to sob. 

Dream stares down at him for a few moments, putting away his sword. He doesn’t end up killing him then and there- no, instead, he turns around and heads for the exit alongside the rest of his friends.

Wilbur just remains there, in the Final Control Room, until he is as empty and numb as the others. He pulls Tommy into his arms one last time, (trying not to think of how cold his brother is), his breathing coming in short and choppy. 

He ends up dying alone, surrounded by the bodies of children and whispers and other broken things.


End file.
